Buck Owens and the gang back in the corn field and playing that music of bygone days, I sort of wax nostalgic, as I often do these day.  Guess that is a part of getting older and realizing the majority of your days are behind you. These days, especially, the future of the world is  questionable as we hear all the bad news going around.  But, going back to “what’s for supper”,  that subject was brought to mind because this weekend’s race will be in Martinsville, famous throughout the circuit for those “hot dogs”.

I guess, by now, you have figured out, or at least assumed, that I’m grabbing at straws this week for a subject for this Legendtorial.  You would be right, of course. With no race this past weekend, which is a good thing since it was Easter weekend, there was little or no subject matter from which I could draw a topic. But then I was reading an article this past week about some of the racing teams of today who actually take along professional chefs to cook for them in the infield at the races!  In fact, the article I read, and I can’t find it now, concerned the chef for the Rousch teams, I believe, but I’m not certain so I won’t give a positive identification to him.

As I read the article and some of the foods this chef prepared for the teams I was thinking “you’ve got to be kidding me”.  Lobster, Steak, Shrimp, all those special foods enjoyed by the rich and famous! But, I suppose, our “Premier Series” drivers today are some of those “rich and famous”.

While we’re on this subject, I want all of you over the age of 50 who may have attended races in the past, to think about what you took, or bought at the track to eat.  These things come to mind for me right quickly:

1.  As I recall, I had only ONE of those Martinsville hotdogs.  I don’t really remember what it was like but I remember I was there in the 70s sometime and was told I MUST eat one, so I did.  I had heard everyone talking about them but for the life of me, as I sit here in the Lair on a Monday afternoon, I cannot remember anything special about those dogs.  I’m sure Dave Fulton can elaborate as he was a part of that Forum discussion on here a month or so ago.
2. When I was in Darlington covering qualifying back in the 70s and 80s, I would often eat in their infield cafeteria.  I remember it was mostly country cooking and mostly very good.  I have no doubt, however, there was more grease in one fried chicken leg than there was in all the cars in the pits.  But I survived it.
3. When I was traveling to a lot of races by myself before my parents got the motorhome, I would take along sandwiches like peanut butter and jelly because those wouldn’t spoil.  When a group of us went, we would carry an ice chest or two filled with all kinds of goodies.  Just sitting here thinking of the number of bologna sandwiches and pickle and pimento loaf sandwiches I ate over those years is giving me a stomach ache.
4. I was fortunate enough, several times, to be invited to join the Pettys at the infield table where Lynda would prepare her signature turkey breast sandwiches.  I still remember those sandwiches as some of the best things ever put between two slices of bread.
5. When my parents got the motorhome and we attended races all over the Southeast, my mother would pride herself on not only the good meals she would cook, but also the number of people she could feed.  And my Daddy got really good at cooking on a charcoal grill.  That talent didn’t necessarily transfer to his oldest son because I am still much better at burning what I’m cooking on the grill than I am preparing those absolutely perfect hamburger patties he could cook.  I remember my mother cooking a huge pot of spaghetti with her special homemade meat sauce and that would feed the usual 20 to 30 folks who showed up at the motor home on race day.
6. Then we began meeting the same folks at most of the races, such as Kenneth Smithey whom I mentioned last week.  His family, our family and other families we came to know, would circle our RVs like the old time wagon trains, and have an open space in the center where we would set up tables and everyone would put out food.  It was not unusual to go to a race weekend and gain five pounds just from all the eating.  I can’t remember her name, but there was a lady and her family from North Wilkesboro who always came to the races at Darlington, Charlotte, Atlanta, and Talladega and that woman could make the best banana pudding in the world. It was so popular, she would bring several bowls every race!  Oh, those were the days.

We rarely ever stopped at a restaurant when traveling, but when we did, it was a special event.  The one place we would always stop for lunch coming back from Daytona on Monday after the 500 was the Union 76 truck stop in Richmond Hill, Georgia.  Great place to eat.  Billy Biscoe remembers that place I know because, even though I didn’t know him then, he and the Petty Team and my family all ate there that day and Billy was driving the transporter truck for Petty Enterprises.  It was by him allowing us to follow that truck that we got home through all that snow!  Remember that great snow storm of ’79?  The next week at Rockingham, I asked Richard how long it took them to get home after we peeled off and he told me they got right to the shop and the rear wheels of the trailer went in the ditch.  They had much more snow up in Level Cross than we had in  Columbia and it was an experience getting that motorhome to the house on roads where there had literally been no traffic.  Other than that truck stop, I don’t recall a single “regular” stop on the restaurant circuit for the Leeming family.

One more comment about the Chef for the teams.  I doubt there is one chef for any team out there who could feed more people adequately and with good food than my Mama did in those infield encampments.  Between Mama and Daddy, we all ate good and everyone was always welcome at their table.  I do know that when we stopped going to the races, Frito-Lay stock dropped 40 points on the New York Stock Exchange as we were no longer buying Fritos and Potato chips by the case.

Switching gears now for a minute,  very little comment has been made about the Logano-Hamlin matter or the Stewart-Logano matter.  The bottom line, my assumption from what I read, is that Joey is sorry Denny is hurt but if he had it to do over again,he would do the same thing because he was in it to win it.  The Captain, Roger Penske backs Joey 150% on that issue and I must agree it was hard racing that caused the accident and nothing intentional.  I think the problem came in when Joey made his comment that Denny “got what he deserved” before he knew Denny was hurt.   As for the Joey-Tony matter, from most comments I’ve read all across the web, folks are taking Joey’s side,  not because they are Joey fans or they dislike Tony, but because most see Tony as the expert on blocking moves and believe he would have done the same thing.  Maybe now, if that were me and Johnny Mallonee on that Savannah track today, I would throw a block that would put him in the swamp with the alligators!

One final thought as we get ready to move into the rest of the season and races every weekend.  Sort of reminded of this today with an episode of the Andy Griffith show I watched.  I think we all move to fast these days and most seem to be so engrossed in pursuit of the almighty dollar, that we have lost sight of everything important.  It’s nice to have money and it’s nice to have many of the things it will buy.  But, in spite of the jokes you hear to the contrary, money can’t truly buy happiness.  The point here is that this past Sunday, Easter Sunday, so many businesses were open for business that it seemed as though Easter was overlooked entirely.  I don’t like that at Christmas and I don’t like that at Easter.  I think about the wonderful time Ann and I had with my daughter’s family at their home for Easter Sunday dinner and felt remorse for those having to work at Walmart, Pet Smart and other stores we passed on the way there.  I compliment places like Publix and Best Buy for observing the holiday.  Just felt the need to mention that.